


Ghost Town (unfinished one-shot) (Sans x Reader x Grillby)

by Voice_of_Mischief



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Grillby is soft, M/M, Multi, Reader is tired, Sans is a Creep, Sans x reader x Grillby, Unexplained Backstory, Unfinished, and Sans comes along like hey obviously depressed person I'm gonna flirt with you, cat monster reader, gender neutral reader, implied trauma, like a weirdo, lowkey, monster reader, reader be going through some shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voice_of_Mischief/pseuds/Voice_of_Mischief
Summary: You're a monster that grew up in Snowdin town. After five years of living in Waterfall, you've come back to your hometown. But it seems ghosts from your past live around every corner, and more than one monster seems intent on haunting you.Sans x Reader x Grillby(Reader is a monster)(Sans is a creep lmao)(This one-shot is incomplete- if people are interested, I might get around to finishing it? Consider this the first half)





	Ghost Town (unfinished one-shot) (Sans x Reader x Grillby)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey heyyyy! Sorry for posting an incomplete oneshot :c I wanted to share something to show that I'm not dead haha,,
> 
> This oneshot is kind of close to my heart? Like at the time I wrote it I was feeling really down and detached from people and writing this helped me get the feelings out I guess, it's been sitting in my folders for so long skddjjksks
> 
> If this gets some positive feedback! I'll finish the second half!!

You inhaled the crisp, cool air, staring out at the pristine, sugar-coated trees and glittering stalactites above. All just as you remembered it, if a bit more quiet. You hefted another box into your arms, settling it carefully in the cart. You dug around in your pocket, taking out a handful of gold coins and extending them to the cloaked person.

“Thanks.”

They accepted the pay without complaint, humming. “Tra la la. Hope you like your new residence.” 

“It's not really…” 

You stared after the boat as it dashed off across the water. Huh. Well, that was kind of rude. Oh, well. Maybe they hadn't heard you. That wouldn't be new, either. 

You slipped your arms into the harness, adjusted the straps, then buckled down and got to walking, cart grinding along behind you. The snow would have given you much more trouble if you hadn't gone out of your way to purchase boots beforehand. Your breath fogged in front of your face and clung to your fur, making you feel sticky and gross as you chugged on toward the town. As you approached the friendly, brightly lit village, you pushed the hood off your head and cast a glance around.

Same place, same people. A few things had changed, of course- a few more houses had been put up, the inn was bigger, the libraby had a new roof, the town center had been cleared of a few trees. Monsters milled about, friendly chatter filling the atmosphere with its warmth. A dog monster trotted past, armor clinking, and you stopped to let them be well past you before walking on. 

You had found a small cottage at the riverfront that had relatively low rent for what it was. You slid the harness off and locked the cart in place near the front door, digging around in your pocket. With a heavy clunk, the lock turned and the door swung open. You inhaled the stale, musty air inside, and got down to work.

——————

Boxes littered the sparsely furnished living room, a few crowded the small kitchen, and more crammed the short hallway to the bedroom. You sat on one, tail ghosting over the dusty floor. You breathed heavily, the place still cool enough to have mist form at the end of your nose. You needed to harvest some wood for the fireplace. 

You lifted your head, gazing out one of the charming, circular windows. Snow drifted down from the overhang, apparently disturbed by a passing breeze. Well, you might as well acquaint yourself with the new Snowdin. It had been years since you'd been here, after all.

You grabbed a thinner coat than the one you came in, pulling it over your head. You flicked your ears to right them as you headed for the front door. You locked your door, stuffing the key in your pocket. You paused on the doorstep, staring at the chipped red paint of the door for more than a minute. 

Then, you turned and began crunching your way up the snowy path. 

—————

Two children dashed past across your path, giggling and throwing snow at one another. You followed them with your gaze, but didn't stop moving. You had already taken a glance inside the libraby, investigated the shop, and waved uncomfortably at a random dog monster that had been staring at you. He hadn't waved back, just shifted the dogtreat between his teeth from one side of his muzzle to the other. 

You tugged at the collar of your coat, unnerved, and trudged on. You slowed, then stopped, blinking. That was new- or, at least, refurbished.

The small, low building glowed warmly in the otherwise cold and foreboding landscape. In lit up, large letters above the door: GRILLBY’S. That seemed familiar. Something tickled in the back of your brain- an almost-memory. You crushed it down, shoved it away, beat it back where it belonged, well out of sight. 

You stared at the establishment for a minute, contemplating going inside. Clusters of monsters were seated near the front windows, drinking or laughing or talking enthusiastically, overbearing friendliness oozing through the glass and seeping through the snow to the toes of your boots. It was bound to be loud in there, loud and cramped. But maybe you could get a job here since the shop down the road wasn't hiring. 

A bell jingled as you pushed the door open, pausing to soak in the atmosphere. You had been right, with the exception of one thing: It was incredibly stuffy in here. Warm colors overflowed from picture frames, trickled over the walls, spilled from the chairs and tables themselves. Monsters chatted and knives and forks clattered and glasses clinked, a white noise you associated with family parties. The smell of pop and fried food and, more discretely, alcohol permeated the air. A friendly sort of bar. 

You tugged the coat off and tucked it slowly into your arms as you drifted across the floor, scanning the place. Monsters dotted the bar, filled tables, loitered in booths. All talking and chatting about so-and-so’s cousin or such-and-such’s aunt. Some of them cast you curious glances as you passed. You tail twitched uncomfortably, and you suppressed the urge to let the fur lift along your spine.

You drifted up to the counter, looking up at the monster standing just on the other side. A fire monster, flames of the classic reds and yellows, dressed in a finely pressed uniform and untouched apron. His glasses flashed as he methodically wiped out one glass after another. A faint flicker of recognition stirred in your chest and you beat it back furiously, taking a deep breath. 

You rapped softly on the counter top, coat tucked in one arm. The fire monster and the monster seated on a stool just to your right glanced up. The seated one seemed uninterested and turned back to his plate without a second look. The fire monster, however, stared at you silently, flames wavering. His look was intense.

“Are you hiring?” The question was simple enough, easy enough to say casually. Maybe you had said it too casually. He stared at you for a solid five seconds, glasses white with glare and impossible to read.

You shifted from one foot to the other, flicking one ear uncertainly. Finally, he turned and messed with something on the opposite counter before turning back and offering a small sheath of papers to you, taking a pen from his apron and handing that to you as well. You took both gently, feeling the heat radiate off his hands. 

“Thanks.” 

You dipped your hand and headed for one of the two empty booths, only a handful of steps away. You sat yourself down, laying your hoodie on the cushion beside you, and clicked the pen a few times, giving the application a glance over. 

The first few lines went along simply and methodically. You came across one that made you snort with laughter. 

[Do you have a criminal record? If yes, please specify. (Circle one.) Yes No ]

That one stumped you a moment. I mean, you didn't have anything on your actual physical record, but had you done something that could have landed you a handful of bad marks and some time in prison? Most certainly. Imagine if you said yes but then wrote that you didn't get caught, though. How would he take that? You snorted, chuckling lightly under your breath as you circled the ‘No’. 

“ha, see? even total strangers can't resist my comedy.” 

You blinked and looked up, ears swiveling confusedly. The patron at the bar you hadn't quite noticed had turned in his seat and was grinning at you smugly, one elbow on the bar- smiling in a ‘ha, caught you’ kind of way that made you uneasy. A broad, chubby skeleton- a monster you didn't recognize at all- with tired looking, shadowy sockets and a wide, knowing sort of grin, clad in a baggy, well worn blue parka. The small lights in his sockets seemed to scan you over, and you politely dipped your head. You hadn't been laughing at his joke, but you didn't want to be rude. 

You turned back to the application, carefully flipping to the next page. You tapped the pen lightly against the table as you contemplated what to put for prior experience. You had worked at MTT Resort a while, but that wasn't really a place that served food, in your opinion. Sequins compressed into a rough hamburger-like shape wasn't exactly edible, or sanitary, in your opinion.

Your gaze darted from the paper to the white hand that had just planted itself on the tabletop, then up to its owner. The skeleton. He loomed taller than you expected, that slanted, somewhat smug grin tilting at his teeth, one eyebrow raised as he stared down at you through half-closed, probing sockets. 

Had he said something and you hadn't picked up the hint? “Sorry?”

“c’mon, pal.” He drawled in that slightly street-accented baritone, extending a hand halfway to you. “don't you know how to greet a new friend? shake my hand.” 

So you did. When you felt the cushion press against your palm and heard the noise that followed, you held his gaze as he began to chuckle, shoulders quaking. Ah. An attempt at public humiliation. The bar filled with laughs. You managed to smile, dipping your head a tad. 

“Funny.” You kept your tone light. “(Y/N).” 

He slid his hands back into his pockets, still chuckling, still piercing you with that gaze. “Sans. Sans the skeleton.” He winked.

“That seems a tad on the nose.” He didn't seem to be going anywhere, and you had nothing else to note. 

He chuckled again, grinning slightly broader, perhaps a bit more genuine. “kid’s got jokes. don't think i've seen you around.” That probing look was beginning to bother you. You halfheartedly turned back to the application so you didn't have to look him in the eye, bubbling things in as you spoke.

“You haven't. I've just moved back in.”

Snickering, the skeleton placed a hand on your shoulder blades. “hey, guess who's back?” 

Realizing the joke, you responded as you scribbled Mettaton’s name in the ‘CONTACTS’ tab. “Mine.” 

“ah, c’mon, kid. throw me a bone here.” He actually laughed this time, deciding to sit in the booth across from you. He propped one elbow on the table, setting his jaw in his palm. He watched the pen make loops across the page as you scribbled down your phone number. Did he notice your growing discomfort? The way your eyes darted about as you tried to think of what to say? You needed at least a day’s preparation to plan responses to social interaction like this. “so, what drew ya back?”

Ah. So he liked to know everybody's business. That was… fine. A lame response came to mind, but at least it wasn't entirely a lie. “Just felt like it.” 

“huh.” He closed his sockets, nodding as though in thought. “heh. i can respect that.”

You scribbled down a brief explanation of your work ethic, focusing on trying not to misspell anything. Apparently taking your silence as a bad sign, the skeleton cracked one socket open and stared at you hard, smiling sinking ever so slightly. You glanced up to meet his gaze for just a moment, confused by his sudden quiet, and just as quickly glanced down again. 

“hey, don't be scared, i don't bite. i’m a friendly guy.” 

You glanced up to meet his gaze again, pen pressing a large inky dot into the paper as your hand stilled. There was something unnerving about the skeleton’s gaze. As though you both shared some dirty little secret you had half forgotten. 

“I'm not afraid. I just… don't have much to say.” 

“hm.” 

A few more minutes passed. You signed your name at the bottom of the last sheet, checked everything over again, re-stacked them, then stood. The fire monster was in the same place you'd left him, still washing glasses with machine-like consistency. You slid the papers across the counter, dipping your head as he took them. He nodded. You turned, slipping your coat over your head again as you trailed towards the door. 

“hey.” You stopped, ears swiveling, then turned and faced the skeleton. He was standing beside the table you'd been sitting at, shoulders slouched. “will i see you again?” 

You blinked slowly, holding his gaze. “I suppose so. I do live here, after all.”

The door jingled as you left.

————

“Oh, it's so good to see you back here again, pumpkin.”

“I know, Ma. It's not like I never visited.”

“I'm your mother! It's my job to get emotional when anything involving my baby happens.”

You leaned over and put your chin atop your mother’s head from your place sitting on the countertop, smiling. It was a strange feeling, being back in this kitchen, back in this house, your room just down that hallway, the door firmly shut. Same round, friendly windows with the same old stained glass decorations hanging from the same old hooks. Same old house. Same old Mom.

“What made you decide to come back?” 

You glanced up, ears swiveling as your mother’s angled towards you. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you seemed so deadset on leaving five years ago. I know you had been planning on it for ages. What changed your mind?”

You shrugged, quickly dodging her gaze just as she looked up from cutting up the lemon bars. “Just felt like I should. Got tired of trying to fit myself where I didn't belong.”

“Well, its good to have you back, pumpkin. Any plans, now that you're here?”

“I applied for a job at that new bar. The one near the libraby.”

“That's wonderful! Goodness, is that sign still misspelled? It feels like that should have been fixed by now.”

“Hey, that typo was part of my childhood.” 

“Are you sure you can't stay any longer? Your father will be home in an hour or so.” 

“Sorry. I've gotta start unpacking or it'll never get done.” 

“Do you want a look inside your old room? I know there are some… troubling memories there, but everything's right where you left it.” 

You glanced at the door at the end of the dark, shadowed hallway, ears flicking back. The shadows seemed to creep out from under the doorframe, trickling out like ink from a cracked bottle. 

“Nah. I've gotta go.” 

“Okay, pumpkin. Get home safely. Don't be afraid to try and make friends.” 

She finished wrapping up a small stack of lemon bars, and you accepted them willingly as she led you to the door. You grabbed the knob.

“G’night, Ma.” 

“Come here, you.” She gently took your head in her hands and gave you a gentle peck on the head. You touched your nose to her ear, smiling. “Drop by soon.”

“Of course.” 

———————

A week passed. It still felt strange to be back here, but you were getting by. Watching the snow ghost past your windows was nostalgic and charming, your mom kept sending you food, and, though you hadn't found a job yet, you were getting by on what you had in the cookie jar. 

You yawned, stretching and scratching behind your ears as you cracked your mailbox open. You peeked inside, then had to look again. You actually had mail? You pulled the few envelopes out and ducked back into your cottage.

The first was a letter written by the owner of that bar- Grillby. The small, infinitely neat cursive handwriting seemed familiar somehow. He had accepted your application. There was a request for you to come tonight for a briefing on what you would do and how you would do it, but it would work out just as well if you showed up any morning this week. Nice.

The second was from someone you didn't recognize- the scrawl in the upper corner of the envelope was too hastily written to make it eligible, but their name could have started with a P. Inside was a party invitation- someone was going to be back in town soon and they would be ecstatic if you went to the party they were throwing on a Friday several weeks from now. It looked like a mass-produced letter, like one had been sent to every resident of Snowdin. Maybe you would see old friends there. Maybe you could make new ones. Maybe it would be worth it to go.

You threw one of your two button up shirts and a pair of dress pants in the wash, then ironed them dry when they came out of the drier still damp. It took you three tries to get the buttons right, and you had to scrounge around for your belt before you found it, but soon you were dressed in what you hoped was appropriate attire and went off to the bar, hoping to impress your new boss with how conscious and eager you were.

You walked in the door, the warmth welcome on your chilled fur. You strolled up to the side of the bar, carefully pushing the gate open and stepping behind the counter. Grillby glanced up as you approached, glasses flashing.

“Hi. Sorry if it's a bother that I'm here early.” 

He shook his head and turned, scooping something up and passing it to you. An apron and a name tag. As you pulled the apron over your head and tried to hastily tie it behind your back, the fire monster began to speak in his tongue, a series of hisses and cracks and whispers that to an untrained ear sounded as much like a fireplace as anything else.

“…… It's good that you showed up………… when you did…… Since its slow… we can… get you acquainted with the ropes…… easier.” 

You nodded, fumbling with the tag. After a moment, his pleasantly hot, ever-changing fingers took it from you and carefully pinned it to the left of your chest. Your ears flicked in embarrassment. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t fret over it…… Come with me.” 

You followed him through the fire escape, something about your new boss’ voice seeming increasingly familiar, from the long pauses to the formal way he spoke. You pushed the thought away as he began to go over the basics of how he ran his bar.

————

You wiped down the countertop with one hand, flipping through the notes you had taken with the other. A few hours had gone past, and you had taken well enough to the work. It was the typical food joint fodder that didn't require a lot of thought, just a goal and a way to achieve it (wipe down all the tables, clear all the plates, keep all glasses filled, etc.). Grillby was nice and didn't talk down to you the first handful of times you made a mistake. You were beyond grateful after the experience you had at MTT Resort. 

You weren't paying much attention, even when there was a flurry of greetings quickly following the jingling of the usual bell that meant someone had strolled in.

“well, if it ain’t little ol’ hasn't-got-much-to-say.”

You jumped, dropped your notepad, hastily ducked to retrieve it, and cracked your head against the underside of the countertop when you went to stand up again. You hissed as you straightened, tail twitching. 

“eesh. y’okay there, clutzy?” 

You blinked a few times to steady your vision, then looked up. Sitting across the counter from you was that skeleton- Sans. Was he the one that had gotten a welcoming committee? Perhaps he was popular. He held the potential to be charismatic, at least. He had his elbows on the bar, arms crossed, and a smile on his face that was marginally concerned but mostly amused. 

“Yes, I'm fine. You startled me.” 

“y’shoulda seen the look on your face.” He snickered. “so. the old matchstick decided to hire you after all.” 

“It would appear so.” He chuckled. You supposed that counted as dry humor, didn't it? “Let's try this again. Hi, welcome to Grillby’s, what can I get you tonight?”

“the usual.” 

You had a small stare off, as though he was daring you to say something. Finally, you nodded, scribbled his answer down, then set off towards where Grillby was trying to convince a plant monster to stop drinking. 

“Um, sir.” 

He turned, flames flickering slightly oranger. “… Just Grillby. Just… call me Grillby…”

“Right. Sorry. Uh, Sans- the skeleton guy- he wants ‘the usual,’ but the trouble is I don't know what that is.” 

“Ah. I… see… I will… take care of it…” 

You drifted around the restaurant, scooping up dishes and refilling glasses as you went. Grillby went through the fire escape. You were scrubbing at a particularly stubborn plate when he reappeared. You greeted him with a flick of your ears as he passed and set a plate and a bottle of ketchup in front of the skeleton. 

“so, whiskers.” You turned your ears around to pay attention to the skeleton, but kept on scrubbing. “you said you moved back in.”

“Mhm.”

“so you lived here before? when?”

“I grew up here.” 

“ah. say, what school did you go to?”

“FlurryValley High.” 

You stopped scrubbing to look up at Grillby, surprised that he had spoken the exact same answer at the same time you had. He coughed uncomfortably, flames flickering redder. 

“We… were in the same class………” 

Realization came washing over you. You pulled your hands out of the soapy water, tail curling slightly as you stared into the white lenses of his glasses. Memories came spilling out of the recesses of your mind, soft and warm and fond. “That's right. We worked on a project together when the king was coming to town. You were diligent, and a hard worker. I admired that.” 

Grillby’s flames whipped furiously, and the tips turned a faint reddish-fuchsia as he turned his head slightly away, gaze now unreadable. “……… You were…… bright…… and determined to impress… the king…… and make it… the best it could be…… I… admired that…” 

“We got one of the highest scores in class. I was so excited when the king came to see it that I almost knocked it over and ended up falling over myself. I was so embarrassed.” The memories, though they made your ears burn with a flustering feeling, were warm and soft and nostalgic and welcoming, licking gently at the edges of your mind like a smoldering fire. You smiled. 

Grillby let out a crackling, popping laugh. “Yes… You… hid behind me…… when the king finally approached…” 

A smile stretched your lips, the sort of smile you hadn't felt in a long time. You both stood quietly for a few moments, soaking in that warm and fuzzy feeling that had suddenly filled the atmosphere around you. With a smile still tugging at your lips, you turned back to the sink, now elbow deep in the soapy water. 

“Heheh. I think that was the most fun I'd had all year.” 

“It… wasn't long… after that…… that you went… quiet.” 

Your smile faded a bit. You shut the memories out, slamming the door. “Oh. Yeah.” 

“Sorry… if I brought up…… unhappy… memories……”

You wiped your hands off on a rag, turning back to the fire monster with an apologetic flick of your ears. “No, don't be. It's been a while since I thought about back then. It was… nice, remembering something like that. Thanks for reminding me.”

Grillby had turned back to you again, flames flickering and waving softly. That fuchsia tint crept brighter, then faded until it was nearly unnoticeable, as though it had been pushed back. “… You… are welcome. Thank you… as well.” 

You smiled again, then turned back to the skeleton as you began drying off the dishes you'd washed. He had been silently observing the conversation, apparently, a faint look of surprise in his raised eyebrows and gleaming socket lights. “Why do you ask?”

“was wondering if you might have known any of my pals before i had, s’all.”

You went to respond, but flinched when the table full of dogs broke out into raucous barking and cackles of laughter as one of them threw his cards down. You took a deep breath, calming your prickling pelt. 

“jumpy, aren't we?” 

You flicked an ear, a drop of water clinging to one of the hairs. “Something like that. Anyway, I didn't have many friends and left for five years. I doubt I'd really say I could know anyone at this point.”

“that's fair.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop, studying you. “why'd you leave if you were just gonna come back, anyway?”

One of the dogs barked loudly, another laughing. A brief, friendly wrestling match broke out between two. “It's a long story.”

That seemed to spark his interest. He grinned wider, getting more comfortable on the stool. “i’ve got time.”

“I don't.” You whisked away, grabbing a pitcher full of ice water as you went. 

You filled a mother monster’s glass as she tended to her baby, an armless little kid that looked barely old enough to walk on his own. He stared at you intensely from his highchair, gaze wide and almost unnerving. 

You loitered at the table longer than was necessary, not quite wanting to go back to the bar for more questioning. When you finally came creeping back, taking another minute to refill the pitcher, you found Sans and Grillby talking in relaxed, friendly tones. You attempted to make yourself scarce, but as soon as Sans spotted you he waved you over, grinning.

You edged over, glancing between them confusedly. Sans slouched forward, leaning heavily on one elbow, eyes speaking of nothing of mischief.

“alright, kid,” You couldn't have been much younger than him, “Grillbz and i need your help sorting something out.”

“Okay?”

“does this seem weird to you?” 

He proceeded to pop the cap on the ketchup bottle and squirt it directly into his mouth. You watched as he swallowed, the red paste disappearing without a trace. He ran out a blue, glossy tongue and slid it over his teeth, eyes glued on yours as you traced its path over his canines. A jitter ran up your spine.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes, and shrugged. 

“I mean, ew, but… To each their own.”

He smirked, seemingly liking that answer.

“i think i’m gonna like you, kid.”

————

You reached through the gears and cogs of the machine, screwdriver between your teeth. You huffed, making a plume of dust rise and hit you square in the face. You sneezed, ears stinging as they flicked against the lip of the square opening.

“What… are you… doing over there……?”

You spat the screwdriver into your hand, diving in up to your shoulders to try and get the screws off the back wire box. “Fixing the jukebox.”

“… What for…?”

“It's broken?” 

“It's… fine. It always… breaks down…… after a week or so…”

With a hum, you managed to drop the small lid into your palm. You began to press the wires back into their places from where they had been wrenched out of place. “It's no big deal. I'll keep on fixing it if it means you can be happy about the thing working.” 

“…” 

He was quiet for a bit, and you thought you heard one monster ask if he was alright. One of the frayed circuits sparked, burning you finger. You hissed and stuck it in your mouth, sucking the pain away. Just a few more. This thing needed a good cleaning.

“… Do you know how… to fix it…?”

“My dad’s a mechanic, I used to help him a lot when I was a kid. This thing’s a simple mechanism. If I just- ah, there.” 

You felt around for the screwdriver, burning yourself again, then got on screwing the small panel back onto the wired box. Your shoulders ached from the awkward position, but at least you could see what you were doing. A clump of dust fell on your ear and you attempted to flick it away. 

“gee, what a view.” 

Something grabbed your tail and gave it a gentle tug. Biting back a startled hiss, you whisked it out of the grip and lashed it, hitting someone's leg. You heard a familiar, baritone chuckle.

“eesh, take it easy, kid. i’m just pulling your tail.” 

“Hello, Sans. Give me a minute and I'll be right with you.”

“take your time.” He snickered, and you realized that all he could likely see of you would be your bottom half, stuck up in the air as you knelt. You rolled your eyes discretely. Ha, ha, incredibly funny. 

With one last twist, the thing was set in place. With a triumphant huff, you wiggled out of the guts of the box, carefully pulling your head out to avoid knocking it against the lip of the opening. You sat on your heels, screwing the panel back on the machine, then stood up lopsidedly and turned around. 

Sans was leaning against the bar, apparently having been doing nothing but watching you. You dusted off your apron, stooping and picking up your small toolbox. You set it in a back corner of the counter space to pick up later, one ear swiveling as Sans trailed up to you. 

“so, you fixed that ol’ thing, huh?” He chuckled, one hand reaching up and delicately scooping a bundle of dust and cobwebs from behind your ear. Discomfort squirmed inside you. “heh. it's about time someone did.” 

“Business was slow, so I decided to make myself- ouch.” You had placed one of your hands on the counter, only to irritate an already tender singe. Sans’ eyes gleamed, eyelights flicking down to your hand in surprise and what might have been concern. 

“are ya hurt?” 

Next thing you knew, Grillby had your hand in his and was inspecting the small burns. He quickly tugged you behind the bar- was it your imagination, or did Sans frown?- and took a wet cloth, the cool, damp feel of it soon soothing the sting away. You stood there, blinking slowly in the warm glow of Grillby’s ever changing gold and crimson flames as he gently tended to your hands. 

You glanced up, realizing just how close you were to him. His flames could practically tickle your whiskers. For once, you didn't really mind being so close to another monster. 

“Um. Thanks.” 

He glanced up, the eyes normally hidden behind his glasses widening ever so slightly. After a second, he pulled the cloth away and turned to a cabinet, pulling out a small box of bandages. “It is… no trouble…”

With a warm, gentle touch, he smoothed a bandage over the worst of the two burns, hand lingering on yours. Someone coughed loudly, and you and Grillby broke apart.

“so, kid. any tunes you wanted to listen to? i’m buying.” 

————

You pushed the fire escape open, only to be drenched with shockingly cool water. You stood shock still, attempting to figure out just what happened. A familiar skeleton broke out into a belt of raucous laughter, the rest of the pub following suit.

“oh, kid, you should see your face!” 

You tried to wring out your apron, scowling quietly to yourself. “Incredibly funny. Imagine if it had been Grillby who had walked through that door. He could have been doused. Killed. Ha. Ha ha. Incredibly funny.” 

“hey, no need to get all riled up. and here i was thinking you only had one emotion, heh. here, i even brought you-”

A pair of smart, scuffed shoes came into your vision. You glanced up to see Grillby offering you a fresh shirt and apron, flames flickering in a way that made you think he wasn't pleased with the joke, either. You took them with a sigh. 

“Thanks.” 

Sans was drumming his fingers on the counter top, not looking entirely pleased. He coughed, making you look at him again, ears flat angst your head. “before i got interrupted, i was gonna tell ya i brought you a towel.” 

You huffed, taking it from him with a flick of your tail. “Gee, how thoughtful.” You really needed to stop with the sarcasm before it ruined your night. 

Fortunately or not, Sans didn't seem to notice the anger in your voice and shrugged, smiling again. “don't mention it.”

You ducked into the bathroom, ruffling your ears dry with the towel before peeling your shirt off and working on your chest and shoulders. You took a moment to pause and take a deep breath, the anger ebbing slowly. You pulled the shirt over your head, realizing with a start that it was one of Grillby’s- and a size or so too big for you. Whatever, it still worked. You rolled the sleeves up to your elbows and tucked the tails in before slipping the apron on. 

You ducked out, passing Grillby as you did. He stopped, and you did too. 

“Thanks for the change of clothes. I'll have to pay you back sometime.” 

He shook his head, hurrying past with his flames in a sudden blaze. You halfheartedly threw the towel back at Sans who promptly dropped it on the stool next to him. 

“I would thank you, but it's directly your fault, so.”

“suppose that's fair.” He eyed you a moment, snickering, then waved you closer. “c’mere a sec. closer. c’mon, don't be shy.” 

You bent over the counter, cautious of another joke. He reached up to your forehead and you nearly flinched away, but instead of flicking you, he pulled an askew whisker out from behind a still-damp tuft of hair. You pulled away, and he smirked at the whisker clutched between two of his phalanges.

“ya looked like a crazy for a second there, and what kinda pal would i be if i just let you strut around the place like that?” 

————

You stared at yourself in the mirror in your room, continually switching between holding first one shirt up to your chest and then another. Long sleeves, or short sleeves? Long sleeves would be more practical, and personally you thought they made you look better, but you liked the design on the short sleeved one more. Sighing, you slipped the first over your head and stared at your reflection. 

[ Alright. This is gonna be fine. I'm gonna have fun. I'll run into old friends there and be like ‘Oh, hey, it's been a while, how have you been?’ And they'll be like, ‘Oh man, it's been forever! You're so grown! We've missed you so much! Let's talk all night and feel like good old friends again!’ … I wonder if I'll run into Parker and Mel again. Those two were like, inseparable since third grade. I wonder if they ever became a thing. I remember Mel used to have this massive crush on Parker. Good ol’ Melvin. He even joined the MagiBall team just to be with him more. They kept on forgetting to invite me to their games. Grillby’ll probably be there. If worst comes to worst, I can find him and hang out with my boss for the whole evening. Not very different from every other night. I wonder if they'll have snacks? Focus! ]

You licked your palm and attempted to flatten down an unruly tuft of hair. It refused to lay flat and you gave up. This shirt was kind of long for you. You tucked it into your jeans, then untucked it, then tucked it again. 

[ This is stupid! It's not like anyone's gonna care what I'm wearing. Hopefully. They won't, will they? No, wait, don't think about that. Just think about all the people you'll see there. Grillby, and, uh… Wait, which house number was it again? ]

You pulled the slightly crumpled invite out from your pocket again, eyes scanning the digits several times before you slipped it back into your pocket. You looked back at your reflection. Your face stared back at you, eyes slightly wide and shadowed under the rims. It was still you. You took a deep breath. 

[ Okay. Let's go rekindle friendships and find our niche in society. ]

You grabbed your keys, adjusted your shoes, checked your pockets, scooped up the tray of lemon bars- a family recipe- and headed out the door. 

It didn't take long to reach the place. It was lit up like Christmas itself, all the windows aglow with the shadows of monsters being thrown across the snow every so often. Looked like a number of folks were here already. You stood outside for a solid minute before taking a deep breath and letting yourself in. 

It was stuffy inside, the assault of sudden, bright colors making you wince. Cheery, upbeat music was playing from somewhere. Monsters were chatting here and there and everywhere, and a couple of rabbits gave you slightly annoyed looks as they moved out of way of the door and felt the chill outside try to creep in. You quickly shut the door, ducking through bustling bodies to a table garnished with all kinds of foods- mostly pasta?- and awkwardly set your lemon bars off in a far corner. 

God, there were so many people. You could see a few clusters of monsters hanging out on the second floor, leaning against the banister that overlooked what appeared to be the living room. Rabbits, fish, plants, and dogs- dogs, you noted with a flutter of nerves- crowded every available space. You edged along the table toward what looked like a kitchen. 

Someone with a loud, boisterous voice was talking about some dish or another, a cluster of monsters and a ghost you recognized from Waterfall laughing and chatting along with him. You scoured the crowd for Grillby- so far no sign of your smoky boss. 

There were so many people. The song changed, this one the same upbeat, guitar-strumming kind of tune as the last. Someone bumped into you, someone else stepping on your tail. You huddled closer in upon yourself, jaw firmly shut.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway to the living room for several minutes, feeling your phone in your pocket. You furiously shook your head. This was ridiculous! You couldn't stay here all night. You glanced at the snack table, noting a few bottles of alcohol and plastic cups. A drink to soothe your nerves, then you would talk to the first person you recognized. 

You partially filled a green cup with some red, sweet smelling wine and sipped it nervously. It was bitter, but with a sweet edge. You downed the last of it in one gulp, wincing. Okay. Let's do this.

You dodged and ducked through the crowd, spotting a familiar face amongst a group of chatting girls- Macey, from algebra. She was shy, but you had earned a sort of acquaintanceship with her during the class. You edged into the group between her and a tipsy lizard, earning a few curious looks. You cleared your throat awkwardly, and she glanced up.

“Uh, hey, Macey. Its (Y/N). Didn't think I'd see you here.” That wasn't a bad start.

Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh my god, it is you! God, it's been ages. I almost didn't recognize you.” 

You chuckled. “Heh, uh, yeah, it's been a few years.”

“Gosh, yeah, that was weird, how you just like, up and moved away on us.” You sought for a way to change the subject, trying to ignore your surprise at how outgoing she had turned out to be.

“Heh.”

“Well, hey it's good to see you! How long are you staying in town?” 

“Um. Like, permanently.”

“Woah, really?” She exchanged a look with some of the other monsters. You were sweating; it was hot in here. “That's good. I'm sure we’ll see each other around.”

“Uh, how've you been? Y’know. While I wasn't here.”

“Oh, y’know, just settled down, finished college. Daddy’s at home with the baby so I can be here tonight.” 

You blinked stupidly at her, shellshocked. “You're married?”

“Mhmm!” She held up one of her hands, showing off the glittering ring with a wide, happy smile. “You remember Bryce, from gym? He proposed during Soul-String day three years ago! He works in the Core now, so you know how that is with his hours, but he always makes time for me and the baby!” 

Her and Bryce? Of all monsters? You must look so stupid, lost and confused. “Baby?”

“Oh, yeah, little Callie! They're just a little darling! I think I've got a few pictures, hold on!”

“A few? We’re talking multiple zeros, here, Macey.” One of the bunnies in the group snorted, making the others snicker. 

For a few minutes, you stared down at your old friend’s phone, feeling detached from the situation. An observer, looking in on something strangely intimate not intended for you to see, ever. Who was this woman, who had found the love of her life in a former player and was a gushing mother with a small, toddling baby that was just a few months old? Had you ever known her? Had you ever existed before this waking, breathing moment?

As she slipped her phone back into a pocket of her dress, you suddenly remembered something, casting a quick look around. “Oh, hey, have you seen Parker and Mel? I was wondering if I'd see them here.”

She exchanged a glance with the others in the group. Your ears flicked and you glanced around the circle anxiously. Macey cocked her head at you, something almost like pity in her eyes. “Haven't you heard? They're in the Royal Guard now. They're stationed in Hotland.” 

You stared stupidly around at them, a tad numb. “What?”

“They got promoted sometime last year. They've been on the force for four years now. They really never told you?”

“… No.”

One of the monsters shrugged. “I mean, I can get why. You did just kinda up and disappear practically as soon as you graduated.” 

You stared at her. “I didn't disappear. I moved to Waterfall.”

“Well, as far as we were aware, you could have gotten to the surface. If it weren't for your mum, I could have just assumed you'd died.” 

“It… it was just Waterfall. Not the other side of the barrier. You could have walked to see me.” Why were you so desperate to have them understand?

“You didn't exactly leave your contacts with any of us. Mel thought you had just moved on from all of us. Never even so much as a ‘bye, guys, I’m leaving everything I grew up with behind to find a better life’! What were we supposed to think?”

You edged backwards, away from the group, away from these people you'd never even known. “I'm just gonna… gonna…” 

You ripped yourself away from the situation before you could think of an excuse. You pushed your way through the crowd, frantically looking for a bathroom. You tried to edge around someone fluffy and bulky, only to freeze when something touched your elbow. Whoever it was, they were sniffing you.

“I knew I knew you from somewhere!” 

It was a dog, the one you'd seen on your way around town your first day back. You edged away, nerves making your hair stand on end along your spine. There were suddenly so many dogs, all peering down their scarred muzzles at you. The first one chewed on a dog biscuit, twiddling it between his canines.

“You're that kid who lived in that house that got invaded, ain't cha?” 

You backed away, bumping into someone on accident. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” You answered stiffly, hastily reeling down a hallway. 

Someone was just coming out of the restroom as you sped down the hallway. You rushed inside, quickly shutting and locking the door. You leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The room was small and swathed in nothing but whites and pale teal-greens, right down to the worn shower curtain hiding the bathtub on one side. You stepped up to the sink, looking up at your reflection.

Tired, childish eyes. Askew whiskers. Ruffled, untidy hair. Unkempt shirt. Gaunt look. Same old you. 

Anger rose like a sudden tide inside of you and crashed over your rational thoughts, surprising you with its ferocity. You snarled and punched the countertop, cracking your knuckles against it. It stung, and sent shockwaves of pain rippling up to your elbow. You did it again, and again and again and again. You wanted to cry. That wine was hitting you, now of all times. Blood smeared against smooth tile.

Was that someone knocking on the door, or the echo of your knuckles on ceramic? You paused in your onslaught. A knock- definitely a knock. 

“Occupied!” You hollered, hoping they'd hear over the music. 

They knocked again, more insistently this time.

You hissed, shook the anger out of your head, and splashed water on your face. The cool of it felt so nice. You wanted to drown yourself under the faucet, but you turned away from the mirror and to the door. Your hands were throbbing with pain, and blood trickled down your fingers.

You unlocked it and swung it open, revealing Sans. You blinked stupidly at him, standing numbly in the doorway. 

He was grinning, raising an eyebrow at you curiously. “heya. didn't know you'd be here.” 

You ran a hand over the top of your head, blinking. “I thought I might… see some… make some… er. I brought lemon bars.”

“uh huh.” He studied you closer, eyeing you up and down. “hey, you alright? you look… not good.” 

“Um. No. No, I don't think I'm alright.” You wanted to cry. You wanted to run away. The alcohol was loosening your tongue. You wished it didn't. Your sense of control was slipping rapidly.

He stopped smiling, looking surprised. “well, hey, you wanna talk about it?” 

“I just…” You ran a hand over your crown again, glancing down the dark hall to the brightly lit party, monsters laughing and smiling and having fun with the people they'd grown up with. “I wish I hadn't come.” 

“hey, c’mon. down here. so no one’ll hear.” 

Sans’ hand was on your wrist. At the end of the hall was the laundry room, smelling of bleach and fabric softener. The lightbulb was dim and swung about as Sans swung the door mostly shut. You slid down the wall and sat, knees against your chest. After a second, Sans was sitting beside you, staring at you expectantly.

“so, you wanna talk?”

“I… I don't know.”

“it might help. maybe you'll feel better after you talk to a good pal.” He shrugged.

“Talking to old friends is what made me feel like this in the first place.” 

“well, i can't help if i don't know what the big prob is.” He pressed, insistent. You felt trapped. Helpless. You glanced away from your wringing hands to peer into his sockets, dark and bottomless as the Drop Off in Waterfall. Like so many times before, you felt like you were falling slowly forward into that emptiness.

You swallowed, throat dry. “I just… I thought moving back would make things better? Like, how they used to be? But I left because things weren't like how they used to be? Because I didn't want to be around all these people because I wasn't even a person anymore, I was just that kid who had seen that thing that had happened. 

“But Waterfall was just a place. It was just a place, and all those monsters were just people, and I was just… a thing that was there. I was just a thing, existing in that place for a brief period of time. So, I moved back home, where everything was supposed to be okay. But it isn't? 

“Like, I've been out there, doing things but not really experiencing anything, and everyone here has just kind of moved on like I wasn't even here in the first place, and that hurts? Like I thought this was my place. I thought I'd always had some kind of impact here? Like if I was gone for any length of time, things would be different while I wasn't here. But this place just carried on without me. Everyone I knew stayed here and grew up, while I was out there, staying the same. I've just been… left behind? Now I just don't know what to do or where to go and it makes me feel really stupid. And it hurts, a lot, because I feel like no one will ever be able to understand, maybe because they don't want to.” 

You gulped, forcing back the hysteria in your voice and trying not to let yourself melt into a puddle of tears and incomprehensible mush. The tears spilled and ran down your face, thick and heavy. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, wishing you could disappear, then gasped and flinched as hands suddenly found your shoulders and turned you roughly. Sans was staring at you with an almost manic gleam in his sockets, not quite smiling, but hopeful? Or maybe something else. 

“but that's just it, kid. you're not alone like that. y’know why? ‘cause /i/ feel that too. we’re both being left behind by our own existence. we /get/ each other.” He stared hard into your eyes, and you wanted to look away but he had an iron grip on your shoulders and you couldn't force your eyes away. It was like he needed you to feel the same way he did just then- like you'd found the one person in the universe who could understand anything and everything you said, like you'd found /the one/. “i could tell, when we first met. could tell that we both knew something no one else could grasp. you felt that, too, didn't ya? felt that pull.” 

You blinked slowly at him, his words like oil on top of the water of your mind, incomprehensible. Not sinking in. “You… You feel like this, too?” His tone, the way he was speaking, was repelling you away from him- away from this feeling of something important you were supposed to get that you just… didn't. Couldn't, with your mind addled like this.

“you and i are the only ones in this whole underground that can really /get/ each other. and we found each other anyway. against all odds.” He was staring at you weirdly, eyes intense and too bright to look at. You squeezed your eyes shut, and forced yourself to stand. 

“I…” You stared around, feeling lost. How had you gotten here? “I need a drink.” 

You staggered down the dimly lit hallway, clutching the wall, not quite hearing Sans’ voice calling after you. The living room pulsed with light and noise and you pushed through bodies, blindly searching for something strong enough to knock you out. You found yourself in the kitchen, only three or four monsters loitering inside this time. Grillby? 

No. No Grillby. 

Someone had brought vodka and tried to put it out of sight behind a coffeemaker. You dragged it towards you, fumbling with the cap. You'd never had it before, but it was supposed to be strong, right? How much would it take to make you forget any of this had happened? 

You uncapped it, hoisting it in one hand and tipping it back, taking three strong gulps. God, it burned like you had swallowed liquified fire. You pulled up for air, gasping horribly and hiccuping past your scalded throat. Another swig, just to be safe. The glass bottle hit the counter with a clatter and you staggered, a headache creeping up the back of your head, unbearable heat crawling in your stomach, spreading through your veins. The small cluster of monsters were staring at you, exchanging shocked glances. You wanted to wash their faces out of your eyes. You were breathing so heavily, shoulders shaking, tears running, running, running down your face. 

Sans was suddenly beside you, and you staggered sideways, shocked. He took in your face, then eyed the bottle of vodka, snickering slightly. 

“eesh, how full was that bottle before you found it?” 

You were gripping the counter, trying to stay upright. “Who… cares?” 

He glanced at you again, smile disappearing as he apparently realized just how much of a mess you were. He grabbed one of your wrists, tugging you along. 

“c’mon. you need to lie down for a second.” 

You followed him blindly, shoulders getting jarred and bruised as you were dragged through group after group of people. Faces swam past, shock, confusion, pity, amusement. Sounds trickled through your ears, but the words didn't calculate into having meanings. Flat floor turned into stairs, making you stumble and fall. Your knees didn't want to bend, not at first. Hands found your arms and pulled you up, tugging you insistently along. Stairs turned into flat floor again, and light turned into darkness. A door was swung shut. You were swaying. It was quieter here.

“hey, hey, you all right? you gonna be sick? let me know if you're gonna be sick. you feeling all right? what are you doin’, drinking like that?” 

You shook your head, throat tight. “I… I don't want to remember this in the morning. I want to forget. I want to forget I even exist. What does it matter? Why would it matter?” 

You dropped your head, hiccuping softly. The tears overflowed again and spilled over your cheeks, hot and wet and making your face grossly damp. Sans’ hands left your arms and found your cheeks, thumbs frantically wiping the tears away.

“hey, hey. don't think like that. c’mon, don't cry. it's alright. i’m here. c’mere.” 

He cupped your head in his hands, gentle, delicate. His gaze was soft for once, sad, empathic. The tears continued to come. Your stomach was burning with the hot, scorching alcohol, your throat stinging with it. You stared back at him, blinking past the swimming tears. “I just wish there was someone who was here that was the same. Who would be here, with me, when I needed it, in the way that I needed it.” 

His thumbs rubbed up and down against your cheeks, the small, round lights in his sockets dim and soft and fuzzy. “/i’m/ here.”

He was leaning forward, gently pulling you closer as he did. You were closer than you'd ever been to anyone. The air smelled strongly of alcohol. His breath fanned your skin, your faces nearly touching, and now you were close enough to share the air, and he was only coming closer.

————

You weren't sure when you woke up. All you knew was suddenly your eyes were open, light was pooling in them like liquid pain, and your head hurt like nobodies business. 

You sat up, groaning. You weren't wearing a shirt, you noted, but at least you were in your own house, in your own bed. You staggered to your feet, swayed, then stumbled to the bathroom. Your reflection proved to be just as terrible as you thought it would be. You looked gaunt and pale, eyes bloodshot and sunken, hair unruly and whiskers unkempt. You looked like a walking disaster, and this headache wasn't really helping. You smacked your lips to loosen your tongue from the roof of your mouth, only to cringe in pain. Confused, you leaned closer to the mirror, feeling along your bottom lip. There was a small, clean cut on the left side, and the movement of opening your mouth had reopened it. You hissed in annoyance at the sting.

As you chugged two glasses of water, a palmful of painkillers, and scarfed down a handful of cereal, you realized you hadn't woken to your alarm and you were well over late for work. Cursing, you darted back to the bathroom, hastily turning the shower water to as hot as you could stand, desperate to wash the stench of sweat and alcohol out of your fur. 

You took a minute to reflect on the previous night while you stood under the pouring water, whiskers dripping. You really couldn't remember much beyond trying to catch up with old friends, beating your fists raw against a sink, and getting way too emotional in front of someone. You groaned, leaning your forehead against the cool tile wall. You were just the master of bad decision making. 

You came bustling through the door of the pub well after you were supposed to have arrived, already tying your apron on as you jogged to the bar. Grillby glanced up as you slipped in beside him, apparently surprised to see you.

“Hi, I'm really sorry I'm late, it won't happen again.”

“What… happened… to make you late…?” 

You sighed, already working on a batch of dirty dishes. “I went to a party last night and forgot to set my alarm when I got home.”

Grillby slowly lowered the glass he was wiping down, staring at you. “… Sans’ party?”

“Was that who was hosting?” 

“He… was throwing it… for his brother…… who was visiting… Papyrus… lives in Waterfall… with a friend… and Sans always… tries to make it special… when he comes back… around.” 

“Oh. Well, that was nice of him, I suppose.” Your stomach was churning for some reason. 

“Why… did you go…?”

You sighed, leaning your forehead against the edge of the sink. “I don't know. I… was hoping you'd be there. I think it was a disaster?”

The fire monster turned slightly redder, but continued to stare at you. “… Think…?”

“I think I got… drunk. I can't remember much of what happened. I think I might have cried? Gosh.” 

“… You… cried…?” He sounded concerned, and you watched his shoes take the few steps to your side. You straightened, running a hand over the top of your head.

“Look, if I should bump my head and remember just what happened, you'll be the very first to know. It's probably not that important, anyway.” You winced as the scab on your lip opened again, hissing as you hastily scrounged around for a napkin and dabbed at it. “Maybe I'll find out where this stupid cut came from!” 

One of Grillby’s warm, soothing hands found your chin, his thumb gently running close to your lower lip. His glasses had caught the glare again, making him hard to read, but his flames turned redder and hotter at the sight of the nick. You gently pushed his hand away, trying to smile.

“It's alright. I probably just tripped on my way home or something. It'll stop in a bit.” You held his hand for a moment longer, then dropped it. “I'll go grab more buns from the back.”

————

You ducked, scrounging around in the back corner of the pantry for another bag of buns. You would have to remind Grillby to place another order for more. The light in here was dimmer and easier on your still-throbbing head, so, to be entirely honest, you were taking a bit more time than was necessary to find what you were looking for. 

“heya.” 

You flinched, cracking your elbow against a corner of a shelf. You cursed, straightening with a scowl. You whirled to give whoever it was an earful of just what you thought of them sneaking up on you like that, only to have your voice dry up on your tongue. 

Sans. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, turning back around. “You're not supposed to be back here, Sans.” 

“i know.” He reclined against the doorframe, scratching at his jaw distractedly. “so. last night, huh?”

You groaned, gripping the edge of the shelf hard. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“really? none of it? none of it at all?” He was teasing you. The fat bastard was teasing you. 

You slashed at the shelf sharply, claws extended, making jars and bottles rattle. Five clean lines split the wood. “I don't want to know! All of that should be left dead and buried where it belongs.” 

He was staring at you, startled. “… you don't remember last night?” You slowly shook your head, taking a deep breath. “you don't remember /any/ of it?” Again, you shook your head. “huh. blackout drunk, huh?” 

It was quiet for a while. You went back to scrounging around for something, any excuse to look busy.

“you were pretty riled up last night.” 

You stopped, still refusing to look at him. Your arms were shaking, very slightly.

“i think you were tipsy even before i found you. you bumped into me on your way to the bathroom, so i followed you.” He paused, apparently waiting for you to say something. You clenched your jaw. “…anyway, you said you got so upset after talking to some old friends. you had this wild look on your face. i think you were even shakin’, at first.”

You stared down at your clenched fists, willing him to stop talking while also wanting to know just how much you had spilled. So he was the one you'd gotten emotional to. Fuck. “Be quiet, Sans.”

“you said some pretty interestin’ stuff.” 

“Oh, no.” You groaned.

“stuff about things not being okay.” 

“Oh, hell.” 

“stuff about wishing you had someone there for you.” You winced. He was looking at you carefully now, you could feel his probing gaze hot on your skin. “after all of that, you ran into the kitchen and guzzled some vodka, so i took you some place quiet so you wouldn't do anything stupid, and you started crying, and we- uh, well. after that, you kept on saying you needed to get home, so i walked you there and you kind of slammed the door in my face.”

You laid your head against the shelf, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “Last night was a mistake.” 

Fear prickled up your spine at a sudden thought, and you turned to face him, meeting his gaze. He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the sudden change. 

“Did I say anything about… about /her/?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “who?” 

“/Her/. The kid. Did I say anything about a kid?” 

He looked baffled, and shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“Thank Asgore.” You looked at him again, stepping closer until you were close enough to reach out and touch him. His eyebrows raised again, and a dusting of blue that might have been a trick of the light appeared on his face. “Yesterday I was drunk and vulnerable and not in my right mind, and everything I said or did shouldn't be taken any further than that description. I don't want any word of last night to leave this room. Promise you won't tell anyone about /anything/ I said last night. Promise.” 

You stuck out your little finger, scowling. He glanced at it, then up at your face, expression unreadable. He sighed, then hooked his finger in yours. “promise.” 

With a twist and tug, your nerves were marginally soothed. You let his hand slip away from yours, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. You flinched when a hand found your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“hey, it's okay. you can't help having feelings.” 

Just then, the door swung open and flickering orange and yellow light was thrown across the floor. Sans’ hand slipped slowly down your shoulder, pausing to rest on your arm as you both turned toward the doorway. There stood your boss, a box in his arms. You shrugged Sans’ hand off, stepping away from him. Grillby’s flames flickered slightly redder. 

He gave Sans a look, jerking his head toward the dining area. With a shrug, Sans slipped through the doorway and disappeared around the corner. You sighed, rubbing your temple, as you scooped up a bundle of hamburger buns. You plodded tiredly past Grillby, catching his questioning gaze. You shook your head, not wanting to talk about it. After a pause, he dipped his head in acknowledgement, and you stepped back into the bar.

Sans pretended as though nothing had ever happened. He would have made an exceptional poker player, really. You kept finding Grillby staring at you, however, and your poker face left much room for improvement. He did not press, thank heavens, but the long and hard looks he gave Sans left you wondering if he suspected something. You hoped not. What you spilled last night was too close. 

No more alcohol for you.

—————————

The next few weeks were hell. Sans’ stare was ingrained into your head, and Grillby seemed oddly cold for someone made of fire. Not towards you, specifically, but something just seemed amiss. 

Monsters you suspected had been at the party eyed you long and hard, whispering. Some of them pointed when you spoke with Sans, murmuring to one another. You wondered what they had seen. You didn't want to know. You hated those looks- it reminded you so much of school, after what had happened to that kid, and suddenly you were quite the spectacle. You hated it. Hated it, so much.

One day, when you were busy filling the glass of some plant monster, in stepped a regular patron- a sloppy, tipsy rabbit, dubbed Bunbun. She wasn't your favorite on any of the day of the week, but she rarely talked with you, anyway, so that was whatever. 

“heya, whiskers, can i get a shot over here?”

You wandered over to stand opposite from Sans, reaching behind you to grab a bottle of his favored liquor. You were placing a glass in front of him when Bunbun came tumbling up, throwing her arms around Sans’ neck. 

“Hey there, Sansy! How's my favorite skeleton?” 

You suppressed an eye roll, uncapping the bottle. Sans was watching you the whole time, hardly acknowledging the rabbit. 

“hey, Bun.” He said distractedly, shrugging her arms off. “hey, whiskers, you into sci-fi?”

You shrugged, filling the small glass and pushing it his way. He caught it, spinning it between his fingers. “At times.”

“i’ve gotta have you over sometime. there's a movie i want you to watch. we could try this drinking game i’ve been needing to give a shot.”

You snorted, and noticed Bunbun eyeing you over. When you caught her eye, she grinned, eyes narrowing the slightest.

“Hey there, ‘Whiskers.’ How've you been? Keeping with the old drink?” She made a chugging motion with on hand and burst out laughing. “Who’da thought you was a hard drinker, huh? You looked like you were tryin’ ta drown yourself!” 

She cackled. You blanched, and backed away, clutching the bottle of liquor. She eyed it, shooting you a knowing smirk.

“Eesh, even on the job? Wait till old Grillbaby hears about this!” 

She laughed yet harder, hiccuping. You shook your head, ears flat. People were staring, laughing, exchanging glances. Your tail hit the shelf, the fur slowly bristling as bottles rattled. Sans seemed to realize your ever growing discomfort and turned upon the rabbit, elbowing her away from him. 

“cut it, willya, ya lousy rabbit?” 

You quickly shelfed the bottle and tried to hurry away from the scene, shame hot all over your fur. You bumped into Grillby on the way to the back, stumbling back. He caught your arms and righted you, staring at you in questioning concern. You dodged his gaze, ears folding back. He apparently gave the quiet bar a look, because a handful of seconds later it was returning to its usual noisiness. 

“Are you… alright…?”

“Yes. I'm fine. Sorry.” 

He gently released your arms, still standing in front of you. Warmth brushed your cheek, like heat rolling off a warm breeze, and light flickered at the edge of your vision. Just then, Sans spoke again,

“heya, whiskers, y’alright over there? i wanted to ask you something.”

You took a deep breath and lifted your head. Grillby hastily tucked his hands behind his back. You paused, then turned around and headed back toward the skeleton. Bunbun was nowhere to be seen.

Your lip healed with time. 

————

You liked cleaning up at closing time. It was such simple, monotonous work- soothing in its rhythmic movements, soothing in its lack of other monsters. You liked to plug some earbuds into your phone and listen to whatever suited your fancy as you did the work, occasionally humming along. 

One day, in an especially good mood, you were tapping your feet and lightly swinging your hips to an especially good song when you caught the glow of Grillby’s fire as it was thrown across the floor. You glanced up to find him watching you. Catching your gaze, his shoulders tensed, flames shooting briefly higher. You smiled and removed one of the earbuds.

“It's my favorite song. Want to listen?” 

You removed the earbuds, turning on the speaker. He tilted his head, listening. You spun in place, flashing him a grin. His flames tinted fuchsia-red. You held out your hand, palm up.

“Dance with me?”

He hesitated, flames shooting up again and turning distinctly fuchsia-red, then slowly put his hand in yours. His hands were warm, soft, smooth, like a warmed river stone washed silky by centuries of time. You intertwined your fuzz-covered fingers between his solid-flame ones, taking a step closer and taking his other hand in your free one. He was tense, glasses flashing as he glanced down. Heat rolled off of him like from a freshly stirred hearth, soothing and familiar all at once.

“I can’t dance, so no word of this leaves this bar.”

He chuckled, a sound you didn't hear often but enjoyed nonetheless, and relaxed considerably. His flames died a little and glowed orange and gold as you took the first steps. 

Forward, forward, back, forward again, sweep to the left. It was funny to be leading, as all the dance classes you’d taken- mandatory when working under Mettaton, for whatever reason- had you as the follower, and you stumbled more than once, but it was almost fun after you got into the rhythm of it. You found your eyes resting comfortably on his face, smiling naturally without having to remind yourself to.

The song changed to something slower, more fitting a dance with two partners, but at first you didn't even notice. Suddenly, your hand was on his shoulder and his on your waist as the song wound down and your steps drifted to a halt. You both stood still for a moment, you silently relishing the warmth he so naturally gave off, him gazing into your face with the slightest of smiles on his normally stoic face.

You slowly slid your hand out of his, and he pulled his hand from your waist as though suddenly afraid he would burn you. You let your hand linger on his shoulder for several seconds before turning away.

“You’re a good dancer, Grillby. Making me wonder if you have other talents I don’t know about.”

“Only…… with the right… partner………”

You raised your eyebrows, turning to look at him again. He was suddenly occupied with untying his apron and folding it ever so meticulously. You smiled, closing your eyes for several seconds to remember the way you had stepped so nicely in time.

“It’s funny to think I’d forgotten how charming you can be.”

His flames shot to the ceiling. You blinked, startled.

“You okay?”

He nodded quickly, turning to straighten something on a table several steps away. You sighed, pocketing your phone and throwing your apron over your shoulder. 

“All right. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow.”

You waved, and the door swung shut behind you. Grillby stood where he was, staring at the place you'd been, and gently ran a thumb over his palm. He glanced down at his hands, deep in thought, and let out a small sigh, smiling slightly as he flicked the light switch and the bar was cascaded into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I love you guyssss I promise I'm still writing!!! Pls hang in there I'm sorry it's taking so long for me to get around to my other stuff


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